


The Reluctant Protestor and the Hot Barista

by shaneo6930



Series: The Adventures of the Hot Barista and the Reluctant Protestor [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, And so is Stiles who makes the reference, Becuase I'm a nerd like that, Brief Game of Thrones reference, Coffee Shops, Jackson is a rambling doofus, M/M, Meet-Cute, Stackson is adorable, mild homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 01:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12519580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaneo6930/pseuds/shaneo6930
Summary: After being dragged to a Presidential protest by Lydia, Stiles decides to go get some coffee. While there, he meets hot barista Jackson, who saves him from Gregor Clegane's homophobic stunt double. Cuteness ensues.





	The Reluctant Protestor and the Hot Barista

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after seeing the news make such a fuss over Trump visiting the area, and seeing them focus on a small group of protestors, wanting to be there myself voicing my disappointment. This fic came about instead. Writing it has also helped me work through some very negative emotions I've been holding on to about the state of the world and politics right now. 
> 
> This is also my first Stackson fic. My love for these two has grown to occupy as large of a section of my shipper heart lately.

“Aren’t you a little bit scared?” Stiles asked as his best friend Lydia led him through the crowd to get a good place in the protest. 

“Stiles, sweetie,” Lydia said, as they found a good place up front by the barricade. “Don’t be like that. This is America. Land of the free. First amendment. Listen. The president is here in town, right?”

Stiles scratched the back of his head. “It’s all they’ve talked about on the news all day.” 

“Right,” Lydia chirped. “Look at all these people. They’re here for the same reason we are. To let him know we don’t approve of a damn thing he’s done these past 10 months!”

This was met with an astounding chorus of “FUCK YEAH!”s from the crowd. 

“And as members of 2 of the groups of people he built his campaign around oppressing, we need to make our voices heard now, more than ever.”

“Well yeah, but—“ Stiles starts to stammer out before Lydia interrupts him.

“Come on, Stiles. We’re here. I’ve seen all of those pictures you post on Instagram of you giving the TV the finger every time he’s on it. Wouldn’t you love to do that for real?”

Stiles smiled, remembering the tens of photos on his Instagram account of the obscene gesture directed to an image of the president. 

“Then here’s your chance!” Lydia said excited. “We’ll never get this chance again. So, come on.” 

She then turned to face the street. Unzipping her jacket, Lydia exposed a bright blue T-shirt featuring a picture of a ferocious tiger and the words “Pussy Grabs Back” on her chest. She then nudged Stiles, who in turn, removed his jacket. Stiles’ shirt was red, featuring an outline of America colored in with a rainbow, and the  
words “Make America Gay Again” in bold print below the image. 

“When is he supposed to get there?” Stiles asked, leaning on the barricade. 

Lydia looked at her watch. “About another hour I think.” 

Stiles groaned. “I’m not gonna make it that long without caffeine,” he said. “Hold my place while I go grab a coffee? There’s a shop right down the block.” 

“Sure, Stiles,” Lydia said, still keeping a watch in the street. “Just be careful and hurry back.” 

Stiles politely pushed through the crowd until he reached end. Breaking out, he quickly made his way to the coffee shop he spied on the way there. 

Prentiss Coffee was the kind of small town coffee shop that only exists in small towns. A family owned joint that is perfect if you don’t have a Starbucks around. 

Walking in, he was almost overwhelmed by the beautiful scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sounds of Fleetwood Mac’s Don’t Stop playing on the overhead speakers. This could be his kind of place. 

He quickly made his way to the counter and looked over the menu trying to decide a drink. 

“You here for the protest?” a deep voice asked. 

Stiles looked down from the board and was suddenly awestruck by what has to be one of the most beautiful baristas in existence. Tall with broad shoulders, full plump lips, stunning light blue eyes, and closely cropped light brown hair.

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles stammered out, trying to hide the fact that he was rendered stupid by the other boy’s natural beauty. 

“That’s awesome, man,” the barista said, as he held out his hand. “I’m Jackson,” he introduced himself. “I’d be down there too if I didn’t have to work today.”

“I’m Stiles. And don’t worry. I’ll be sure to flip him off hard enough for the both of us.” 

Jackson laughed. Stiles can already tell he likes this guy by his big smile alone. “Thanks, Stiles. So, what can I get for you?” 

Stiles looks back on the menu board and settles on a tall caramel soy macchiato with extra caramel. 

“Hope you have a good protest,” Jackson says with a smile as he hands Stiles his coffee. Stiles takes a sip an sighs contentedly. 

“Thanks,” he replies while swiping his card to pay. “Hope to see you around sometime. 

And with that, Stiles turns and walks toward the door. Too bad his happy mood is dissolved when a brick wall of a man walked into him, causing him to spill his coffee and fall on the floor. 

“Shit,” Stiles cursed under his breath as he moved to get up. He looked up to see the man he bumped into wearing a scathing anger face. He thought the dude was going to burst into flames. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Stiles said softly, while standing up. “I didn’t get any coffee on you, did I?” 

The man looked at Stiles, and seethed pure anger just at the sight of the younger man. “As a matter of fact, you did, you stupid faggot.” 

Stiles immediately jumped back. As if the word the man just called him was a literal bullet hitting him in the chest. 

“What did you call me?” Stiles asked, starting to hyperventilate. 

“Oh, what?” the man asked mockingly. “Are you deaf as well as being a stupid, clumsy fa—“

As if out of nowhere, Jackson came over from behind the counter standing between Stiles and the man. “Listen, Sir,” Jackson said calmly. “There’s no need for that here. “ He gestured to Stiles, “Now, he apologized, so why don’t you do the same, and we can resolve this matter?” 

“Stay out of this,” The man growled. “This has nothing to do with you.” 

“Oh, but I think it does,” Jackson said, confidently. “See, this is my shop, and this is my friend that you called that horrible word, which is verbal assault, and grounds for me to call the police. But I don’t want to do that today, because they’re probably all occupied with the President’s visit. So, why don’t you just leave before there’s any more trouble?”

Much to the surprise of Jackson and Stiles, the man turned and left. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles said in disbelief. “I’ve never seen that work before.” 

“I’ve seen assholes like that before,” Jackson shrugged. “They’re all bark and no bite.”

“Was that bit about verbal assault true?”

“Fuck if I know,” Jackson laughed. “I just wanted to get that jerk out of the store before he hurt you,” Jackson told him with a slight smile. 

“But what if he’d hurt you?” Stiles asked. 

“I could’ve taken him. My best friend and I take a kickboxing aerobics class every week.”

Jackson then took notice of the coffee staining Stiles’ shirt. “Since you’re wearing your drink, let me make you another.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles said, reaching for his wallet to pay again. 

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Jackson stopped him. “It’s on the house.” 

Stiles sat at the table trying to dry himself off more with a handful of napkins, only to be stopped when Jackson returned with a fresh Caramel Soy Macchiato with extra caramel. 

“Thank you,” Stiles said, accepting the warm paper cup. He started to take a sip when he noticed something written on it. 

“Wanna go out sometime?  
J.  
555-2727”

“Are you serious?” Stiles asked, looking up and seeing the look of anxiousness in the other man’s eyes. 

“If you don’t already have someone,” Jackson replied. “I’ve never done this before, and I don’t even know if you like me or anything because we just met, and who the hell asks out someone they just met? But I can tell there’s something about you that—“

Stiles stood up and placed a finger on Jackson’s lips. “I thought I was rambly,” he laughed. “I’d love to. I just need to get back to my friend before she gets pissed about me missing this protest.”

“Oh, of course,” Jackson said with a sigh. 

“I’ll call you about a possible date tonight,” Stiles started to leave. “It was nice meeting you, Jackson.” And with that, he left the shop.

Back at the protest barrier, Stiles immediately found Lydia front and center, talking to a tall guy in a leather jacket about why she’s there. 

“Forget about me already, Martin?” Stiles said with a smirk. 

“What took you so long?” she asked, turning back around. Seeing Stiles’ stained shirt, she held back a laugh. “Did you trip?”

“Nope. Didn’t trip. Gregor Clegane’s homophobic body double walked into me at the coffee house, spilled my first cup all over me, and called me the F word.”

“I hope you kicked his fucking teeth in!” Lydia seethed in a ‘Let me find the motherfucker’ tone. 

“Didn’t have to. I was saved by the barista. Who then gave me his number.” Stiles held up the cup to show her. 

Lydia started to comment on how only Stiles could get a guy’s number after being lightly attacked, but she noticed a long black limo start to pull up to the hotel across the street. “Oh, shit. He’s here!” 

The two of them turned toward the hotel and joined in with a chant of “Hey, Hey, Ho, Ho, The President Has Got to Go!” with the rest of the crowd. Stiles, smiling bright, did what he came to do and gave the finger high and hard in the limo’s direction when the back door opened. 

“Best day of my life,” he thought, while making a note to tell Jackson about this when they talked later.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize I've probably taken some liberties with protests like having Stiles give the President the finger, but I figured it would be such a Stiles thing to do. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. Leave me a kind word if you did.


End file.
